


we are wide away

by flimsy



Series: we are wide away - series [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fingering, Love Triangles, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-24
Updated: 2012-06-24
Packaged: 2017-11-08 10:48:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/442390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flimsy/pseuds/flimsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam watches Louis, his closed eyes, the way his skin is shining with moisture, the flutter of his lashes against his cheeks; when he looks up Harry is staring at him, watching him in turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we are wide away

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [Kate](http://clarinetkate.livejournal.com) for betaing. <3

In Louis’ world there are no finites – sharing a flat with him has taught Liam enough to know that there exist no exceptions, to know that he does everything in absolutes and extremes. Louis doesn’t give himself leeway, and he doesn’t give anyone else leeway either. It is to be expected that this philosophy includes inebriation.

“Liam, Liam, _Liam_ ,” Louis says from the other end of the table, stopping mid-sentence in a rant about his economics professor that Liam had tuned out. He responds automatically, raising his glass to clink it with Louis', trying to smile.

“What, what, what,” he says, shaking his head a little.

“You should be having a bit more fun,” Louis points out and sighs, gesturing with his arm; he brushes Harry’s cheek in the process and breaks into a small laugh, pushing his hand down Harry’s shoulder, squeezing. Liam watches them and feels his mouth twitch. Their odd familiarness makes him feel uneasy, like they’re part of something that he’s not. He takes a large sip of beer and shrugs again. “I’m the silent and mysterious type,” he finally manages rather lamely.

“It’s true. You’re somewhat silent.” Harry tilts his glass and takes a sip, then messes with his fringe for approximately the sixtieth time this evening. In the four weeks that Louis and he have known Harry, Liam has learnt that Harry’s hair in one way or another appears to have a life of its own. It’s as though he’s never quite satisfied with its fall, but every time he fiddles with it, its state of disarray becomes much worse. 

“Oh, leave him be,” Louis says before Liam can come up with an answer, still transfixed by Harry’s curls. Louis gives him a moment, waiting, but when Liam can’t find anything to say quickly enough, continues, “You need to drink more.” Louis is a little flushed, cheeks red, Harry’s hand resting on his thigh, and Liam itches to touch him, also, to reestablish their connection. 

“I still have beer,” he says instead and bites his lip. Louis gives him another look, then shakes his head and squeezes out of their booth, navigates through the crowd toward the bar. Harry stares after him, hair messy again, grinning slightly.

“He’s a bit of a force of nature, isn’t he,” he says and finishes his beer. “Like a thunderstorm. Hard for him to keep still, eh.”

Liam tilts his head at him, eyes narrowing; Harry is so hard to figure out. He’s got this entire array of stupidness that almost equals Louis’ - a talent, really - but then he’s also oddly observant at times, like the undercurrent of his personality is not as turbulent as it appears. “Yeah,” Liam finally says, nodding. “I guess he’s all that.”

Harry smiles at him, a genuine, wide and happy smile and Liam can’t help but grin back when Harry says, “I’m pretty glad I met you lads.” He leans back against the seat, stretching. Even Liam, who is not usually aware of these things, can tell that he’s physically attractive, all long limbs and lean muscle; he can tell why the girls in class start whispering when Harry enters the auditorium and why Harry’s never really alone during lunch hour in the mensa.

He raises his glass and Harry clinks his empty one against Liam’s, nodding. “You’re quite alright,” Liam says. It’s a bit awkward and he tries to find something to say. He's gotten so used to Harry and Louis and how nothing fits in between them ever since Harry started coming out with them, since Harry started hanging out at their flat and joining them for lunch at uni. Harry is _new_ and shiny and Liam understands; he doesn't really mind, either. He’s got classes and end of year projects and Louis gets awfully moody if left to his own devices for too long a time, so it’s a good thing he has company. Liam knows, rationally, that Louis and he have something special, but then again, maybe so do Louis and Harry, too. 

A moment later, Louis returns with drinks, placing three beers and six more shot glasses square in the middle of the table, then sits down next to Harry again. “For us to share,” he says with a grin and he and Harry grab a glass in unison, while Liam hesitates and then mirrors the motion anyway. “Chin chin,” Louis says and downs his shot; Harry follows suit, hissing as he puts the glass down again, and Liam bites his lip, considering his options for a moment. He doesn’t want to be the odd man out, and he will be because Louis will keep teasing him, currently comparing everything and anything to what Harry does – and Harry does a lot of things. Fuck it, Liam thinks, and kicks it back, wincing at the sharp taste of vodka.

He pulls a face and washes the taste away with a generous sip of beer. “Why do people drink that?”

“Because,” Louis emphasizes with a pleased grin that spans his entire face, “because it’s great.” He high-fives with Harry, and then continues, “And you get used to it.” Liam takes another large sip of beer, blinking as the alcohol spreads through him in a slow warm wave.

Just as he’s getting familiar with the feeling, Louis sits up, back straight and pushes his hair out of his eyes. “Love that song. We should be dancing,” he says and nudges Harry; they grab their second round of shots and down that one as well. Liam wants to tell him to slow down, but the damage is already done. And Louis rarely listens anyhow, not to Liam or anyone else for that matter. Liam stares at the leftover glass in the middle of the table and after a moment of _should-I-would-I_ decides that one time won’t hurt; rinses with beer afterwards, coughing only a little.

“This is just disgusting,” he hears himself say, his words drowned out by Louis’ cheers. Harry joins in and Liam finds himself dragged away from their table and off into the writhing mass of bodies on the dancefloor, hot and sweaty and _contagious_. He finds Louis’ hip with his hand, holding on as they find a spot; he can’t help but dive in now and let the music pull him along while Harry and Louis are dancing together, laughing at each other.

This he can do: the music and the beat are – have always been – part of him and he falls into it and goes under like in molasses because it’s the easiest thing in the world to just move along to it and let go. They mingle with the mass on the floor until he’s almost dripping, until his ears are ringing and Louis’ “I need water!” sounds like salvation to Liam.

He drapes himself over Liam’s shoulder, panting and laughing, his skin hot where it brushes against Liam’s and Liam hugs him back. “Let’s sit, Lou,” he says. “I’ll go get some water.” He pushes their way out through the crowd, dragging Louis along, Harry on their heels, then loses both of them on the way and passes by a group of girls to get to the bar. One of them presses against him and whispers something about his bum into his ear that makes him blush and laugh. “Thanks,” he yells over the music, ducking his head. “That’s very kind of you.”

She giggles, shaking her head, and turns back to her group of friends, shrugging, and Liam feels a little awkward when he orders some water from the barman and then waits for what feels like forever until the cups are finally ready for him to grab. He makes his way back through the crowd and starts circling the room, trying not to spill the water until he eventually finds Harry and Louis curled up on a sofa in a corner only a few feet from where he was actually standing by the bar; they’re talking and laughing, faces flushed. They appear to be on another plane altogether and Liam stops, hesitating for a moment, before making himself cross the remaining distance. 

Louis looks up when Liam approaches to hand Louis and Harry a cup of water each. “Why’d you come back?” he says, sitting up from where he’s sprawled out, leaning heavily against Harry. “That girl was so into you!” Liam shrugs, surprised, and, knee bumping into Louis’, sits on the table, taking a large sip of water.

“Go back,” Harry urges with a grin, “she’s hot.”

Liam shrugs again; his head is spinning a little and he’d rather not go back. Harry’s hand is on Louis’ thigh, thumb rubbing circles on the inside, and Louis looks drunk; Liam wants to stay with Louis and make sure he’s alright. “No,” he finally says, “she wasn’t my type.”

Louis gives him a look, brow cocked, but then rolls his shoulders, sinking further down into the sofa. “I’m bored,” he says. “Entertain me, Styles, Payne. I need entertainment, stat. This is no joking matter.” He pulls up his legs, sipping at his water, and places his feet in Liam’s lap, wiggling his toes in his espadrilles.

“Uhm,” Liam says, flicking his gaze to Harry, who tilts his head at him, waiting. “Uhm.” He knows he’s got a million things he could talk to Louis about, a million little things he could say that would make sense to Louis and Louis alone, but he can’t think of a single one right now. “I like this song,” he manages, latching onto a straw, and shrugs, jugging back his water. “Let’s get out there again.” He pets Louis’ leg and then pulls him up by his arm, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Hey,” Harry calls after them and catches up, tucking his shoulders under Liam’s other arm, and they maneuver through the crowd, laughing, until they find somewhere to fit in together, the three of them. Liam doesn’t close his eyes this time; he watches as he moves, the lights and the people, feels the sweat trickling down the back of his neck, feels his own heart beat vibrate with the music until it all blends together. He watches Louis, his closed eyes, the way his skin is shining with moisture, the flutter of his lashes against his cheeks; when he looks up Harry is staring at him, watching him in turn. He tilts his head at Liam and Liam feels the need to say something, to explain himself, but then the song changes again and Harry cheers, jumping, pushing his hair out of his eyes, the moment lost.

Liam bites his lip and closes his eyes, continues dancing on his own until Louis falls against him heavily, laughing against his neck; Liam catches him. “What,” he says and grins back.

“You’re so into it, Liam,” Louis says and laughs, pressing his forehead against Liam’s shoulder, body shaking with his giggles. Liam shakes his head and pulls him close and up. His pupils are wide, dilated, his body all soft. Liam shoots Harry a look and furrows his brow. Harry shrugs and grins, then raises his hand and puts his forefinger and thumb together, moving them to his mouth and away, repeats the motion until Liam shakes his head. Harry moves closer, until his body is pressed against Liam’s too.

“Ugh,” Liam says. “But when?” He wants to be mad at them for being secretive, but manages only worry.

“When you were getting water.” Harry grins and shrugs. “Come on, it’s no big deal.”

It’s a bloody huge deal to Liam because he’s got Louis hanging off him now, eyes glassy, and he’s not all sober himself and it upsets all the balance he thought he had. “We’re going home,” he states firmly, tugging at Louis until he stands straight again. Harry shrugs. “Alright,” he says and before Liam can say anything he starts weaving through the crowd making a path for them. Louis follows him outside and Liam catches up a moment later, blinking against the sudden brightness of streetlights and neon signs illuminating the area. The night is cool and hits Liam in the face like a fist; he stumbles, shaking his head, stomach spinning for a moment, and leans against the building wall, breathing in deeply. Louis steps closer, grinning at him, and pushes Liam’s hair out of his face, hand warm against Liam’s forehead. He leans into the touch, sighing.

“You don’t hold your booze well,” Louis says, “I don’t hold my pot well. We’re an awesome team, are we not.”

“I’m fine,” Liam says and grabs Louis’ shoulder a second later, pulling himself up. “We should get a taxi.”

Louis nods and Liam presses closer, walking them both to where Harry is waiting at the curb, one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other holding his phone. He looks up when they reach him. “Just called a taxi,” he says and smiles. “Or should I call two?” He bites his lip, pushes his hair out of his eyes and looks at Liam, then at Louis as though he’s waiting for a final decision.

“The night is young, still.” Louis ducks his head and grins, fringe falling over his eyes. “We've got a bottle of red at home, don’t we, Liam?”

“Yes,” Liam says automatically. “Two.”

“Brilliant,” Harry says; he stuffs his phone back into his pocket and gives Liam a little smile, almost apologetic.

“When’s the taxi coming?” Louis asks and stretches his arms over his head, walking a generous circle around them both, T-shirt riding up over his stomach, bunching up around his shoulders.

“I dunno,” Harry says, gaze very obviously fixed on Louis’ belly. “A couple of minutes?”

Liam stares, too, for a moment, then sighs and shrugs; he sits down on the curb, legs folded at the ankles. He’s starting to feel a little more sober with every passing minute out in the fresh air, but they’ll be back inside their tiny flat soon, drinking again, and Liam isn’t sure he’s all happy about that. Harry joins him on the concrete a moment later; Louis comes to a halt in front of them, rolling back and forth on his heels until Liam gets dizzy from watching and grabs his hand and pulls him down.

He collapses like a house of cards, half falling against Liam’s shoulder, but mostly into Harry’s lap, who holds him there for a moment and then tugs until Louis sits up again. “Proper behavior,” Harry says and smiles, while Louis laughs. Liam fixes his gaze upon them; he doesn’t know what’s going, but he knows there’s something. It’s elusive, though, and he can’t quite pinpoint it. He might be able to if he weren’t still drunk.

Louis wiggles a little until he fits between Harry and Liam, stretching out his legs. “Let’s play a game,” he says. “Like truth or dare but without the dare because I prefer to stay seated until our ride, as they say, arrives.”

“That’s not truth or dare then,” Liam points out helpfully.

“I don’t care,” Louis replies. “My game, my rules. You in or you out?”

Liam cranes his neck a little to see Harry’s reaction and meets his eyes. “I’m in,” he says, meeting Harry’s gaze for a moment, trying hard not to blink or be the first one to give in. “Me too,” Harry says after a beat.

“Good, good.” Louis hums and Liam sees him close his eyes. He wonders what there is that Louis could ask him about that he doesn’t already know. “Let’s start out easy,” Louis continues. “Last time you were homesick.”

“Hm. Yesterday,” Liam answers truthfully.

Harry nods. “Me too. I miss my mum every day.” He smiles and shrugs and Liam almost feels compelled to reach over Louis’ shoulder and rub his hair, because he looks like a child and Liam feels sorry for him. 

“Yeah,” Louis chimes in and leans back on his elbows. “I guess, now that we’re talking about it, right now? I miss them very much right now.” He presses his head against Liam’s shoulder for a moment, then sits up again. “That was a really lame question, sorry. Harold, I expect you to make up for my failure.”

Liam can’t help but smile; he sneaks his arm around Louis’ waist and holds him there, thumb grazing over a patch of exposed skin just above his waistband, out of Harry’s sight, which he finds oddly pleasing.

“I’ll try my best.” Harry stares at the ground, nipping at his thumb. “Kinkiest thing you’ve ever done,” he says after a moment and Liam swallows, freezes and lets go of Louis, who makes a joyful sound and slaps the palm of his right hand against his thigh in amusement.

“Fantastic,” Louis says. “That’s the kind of question I should’ve asked. Liam, go first.”

Liam doesn’t want to go first at all; his face is starting to feel hot and he doesn’t quite know what to say. It’s not that he hasn’t done kinky shit before - he’s had enough girlfriends and girls in general to have a fair share of things he _could_ talk about - it’s just that he’d rather not lay open all those details, much less out here in public.

He clears his throat and stares at the building on the other side of the street, mentally going through his nights spent between sheets with a warm body by his side, recounting them from most recent backwards. “I’m not going first, it’s your game, so you go first,” he says after a moment, trying to gain some time. 

“That’s right.” Harry nods slowly, “it was your idea, so don’t you hold back on us.”

Louis makes a disapproving sound and tilts a brow at Liam, then shakes his head. “Cowards, both of you. Alright. Let me think.”

Another shrug from Harry. Liam closes his eyes and presses his forehead against his knees and hopes that the car will be there soon; he doesn’t want to hear Louis’ answer and worse, he doesn’t want _Harry_ to hear Louis’ answer. 

“Okay,” Louis says. Liam feels him fidget a little; then there’s the sound of a car coming closer, and the noise of the engine pulling up right in front of them drowns out whatever Louis says. The car stops and Liam gets up so quickly that he barely catches himself on his feet, face hot. He climbs into the car and tries not to look at Louis too much as he follows after Liam, sprawling on the rest of the seat so that Harry has to get in the front.

Louis stretches his neck to tell the driver their address then collapses back into the seat, his body warm and pliant next to Liam. Harry is typing away on his phone and Liam thinks he probably didn’t even hear either, thinks that it’s probably for the best that Louis’ drunk and high ramblings and confession got lost in the night where they can do no harm.

He clears his throat and starts telling Louis about his plans to go back home for Nicola’s birthday and that he might be gone for a few days; he drifts off into rambling, idly playing with the hem of his T-shirt, talking, barely listening to Louis’ occasional ‘hm’s and ‘huh’s. He punches Liam’s shoulder when they stop in their street and Liam fumbles for his wallet, feeling awkward, but by the time Liam finds it, Harry has already handed the driver a tenner and got out of the car.

“Thanks,” Liam says and opens the door. Louis walks on ahead, hands stuffed into his pockets.

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry answers and smiles, following Liam up the stairs to their building where Liam lets the three of them in; then up one flight of stairs where he unlocks the door to their flat. Louis toes off his shoes and simply leaves them stranded in the middle of the hall, walking off in the direction of the living room; Liam takes off his shoes, places them on the shoe rack by the clothes hanger and then does the same for Louis’. When he straightens up again, Harry is watching him, eyes a little dark.

“What?” Liam asks and smiles.

“Nothing,” Harry replies. He takes off his own shoes and places them neatly next to Louis’. “It’s just that you two are just exactly like I always expect you to be, every time.”

“Huh?” Confused, Liam follows after Harry into the living room where Louis is already uncorking a bottle of wine, three neon colored IKEA glasses on the table.

“I know you wouldn’t want me to use the proper wine glasses,” Louis says and pulls the cork from the bottle. “So we have to make do with these. I do find them rather stylish. They go well with my trousers.” He laughs at himself, shaking his head.

“Thanks,” Liam says absently and sits on the couch; Harry settles down on the floor next to the table, legs crossed and pulls a pouch from his pocket, emptying its contents - cigarette papers, a pack of cigarettes, a small plastic sachet, a lighter, a small metal box - on the table.

“Do you have a piece of cardboard?” he asks and leans back, tapping out a cigarette from the pack. “And you don’t mind, do you?”

Liam opens and closes his mouth, gaze flicking up to Louis who’s pouring Liam’s good wine into plastic glasses. Louis shrugs. “As long as you share? Sure.” No, Liam wants to say because he does mind. Instead he nods, grabbing the green glass off the table when Louis is done. He takes a large sip and then another larger one, eyes closing, sighing.

“Cardboard,” Harry repeats and Liam keeps his eyes closed, hears Louis shuffle around the room and then come back. He keeps his eyes shut for a while, breathing in and out, sipping from his wine, listening to the sounds of whatever it is that Harry’s doing, and when he opens them again, Harry is emptying the contents of the little metal box into a folded piece of paper, stirring; Louis is hanging off his shoulder, watching, whispering into his ear and Liam shakes his head, staring as Harry starts putting together the joint. Joint, Liam thinks, in his flat. He wobbles to his feet and over to the window, opening it, and then returns to the couch, climbing over the back just as Harry puts the thing between his lips and lights it, taking a few careful puffs.

“Here,” he says when the tip is nice and orange, handing it over to Louis. “I’ll make another.”

Louis licks his lips, pulling away from Harry a little, and looks up at Liam; he puts the joint between his lips and sucks, holding in, then lets the smoke curl from his mouth. Liam tucks his knees to his chest and hopes that Louis won’t offer it to him because he wants to try it and he doesn’t want to try it, all at the same time. But Louis does offer it and Liam reaches out and it’s a little like smoking a cigarette, only more burning, chafing down his throat. He coughs once and then just takes another hit, inhaling more deeply.

“I don’t feel anything,” he says and leans against the side of the couch, blinking.

Harry laughs a little, finishing rolling the second one. He lights it up and smokes, watching Louis pass the other one back to Liam, then passes his on to Louis. They play this game, leaving the ashes in a left-over piece of foil, until Liam feels very _soft_ from the inside out and as though his heartbeat has slowed down to match the quiet sounds from the street outside.

“Yep,” Louis says and snuggles up against him. “It’s quite nice, isn’t it?” Liam shrugs. He supposes it is.

“Lou,” Harry says from the floor; he’s perched up on his elbows, legs still crossed. “Lou, are we still playing? It was your turn to answer the question.”

Next to Liam, Louis shakes his head, a small smile playing over his lips that makes Liam’s heart get a little tight. “What do you mean?”

Harry grins a little, but there’s something devious in his smile, something deliberate. “Kinkiest thing you’ve ever done.”

“Oh,” Louis says. “I already answered that question. Too bad for you that you didn’t listen.” He grins back and tilts his brows and then presses his forehead against Liam’s shoulder, his breath a tangible substance against Liam’s skin.

“What if I asked you to repeat it?” Harry keeps prodding.

“No,” Louis says.

“Please.” Harry tilts his chin up, smiling like a child, and Louis makes a dismissive sound against Liam's sweater.

Louis sighs audibly. “No,” he insists. “I will not repeat it.”

Liam watches curiously as Harry starts fidgeting a little, prodding at flakes of tobacco on the table, shoulders hunched a little. He tousles his hair again – ruffle, shake, swipe – and then looks up at them. “Maybe I did hear it,” he finally concedes and Liam feels his insides turn a little, jealous, envious even, that Harry heard and he didn’t. He wants to say something, hazily trying to find some words, but Louis is faster.

“Oh really?” His voice is amused, but also curious, low, maybe a little playful.

“Is it true then? What you said?” Harry asks; he looks down at the floor for a moment. Louis hums and shrugs. Liam swallows tightly, body growing heavier. He wraps his arm around Louis’ shoulder and pulls him in, holds him there. He can’t remember ever doing this, not like that - Louis is touchy, but not this touchy. And he doesn’t go soft against or for anyone, not the way he’s molding against Liam’s side now.

Harry stares up at them for a moment and then crawls up the couch too, folding his body against Louis’. Liam watches him press his nose against the small of Louis’ neck, feels the shiver running through Louis. Harry’s arms find their way around Louis’ chest and they pull; Liam needs to let go of Louis now if he doesn’t want to play tug-of-war with Harry. He lets go and Harry sits Louis up into a sitting position against the backrest, then presses against him, whispering into his ear, unintelligible to Liam.

He watches Louis’ eyes go wide, watches heat and color rise up from the neckline of his T-shirt, the way his fingers curl around Harry’s arm. It’s all flashes and they rob Liam’s breath and if he weren’t feeling so, so comfortable he’d be getting up and trying to get _out_ because he can’t take the way Louis is looking at Harry when Harry finally pulls away again.

“Yeah?” Harry says and pushes one hand into Louis’ hair, obstructing Liam’s view of Louis’ face with his arm.

“Yeah,” Louis replies and then Harry leans down and kisses him on the mouth, lips parted and tongue darting out. Louis kisses back like this is a thing he does all the time, kissing lads, like he’s not even thinking about it, like the way he curls his hand around Harry’s neck is perfectly ordinary.

“Okay,” Liam says and tries to pull away, trapped between the arm of the sofa and Louis’ body. “I’m just gonna-” He’s dizzy and he feels like a fucking third wheel, almost disappointed at how deeply the emotion sits in his gut.

“Liam,” Louis says, turning away from Harry, lips a little raw. “Liam, don’t go.”

Liam can’t move and he wants out so badly, he needs fresh air and a calm head and he needs to not look at Louis like that, like he knows he’s looking at him now, and he needs to not think about Louis like that, like he’s thinking about him now. “Seriously,” he says, feeling himself panicking. 

“It’s okay.” Louis shifts a little until he’s kneeling on the sofa, facing Liam. “This is just a thing. You don’t need to freak out.” Liam wants to freak out, he wants to ask what thing this is where Louis is kissing guys, but then Louis leans in and kisses _him_ , slow and careful and deliberate and Liam can’t help but kiss back, making a tiny embarrassing sound against Louis’ mouth.

“See,” Louis says, smiling, pressing his forehead against Liam’s. “‘s all good.”

I don’t know, Liam wants to say but gets distracted when Harry takes off his shirt, dropping it on the floor, and then tugs Louis’ over his head too. He presses his mouth to Louis’ shoulder and looks up at Liam and Liam swallows and exhales sharply.

“Yes or no,” Louis says, blinking slowly, his lashes dark and thick, mouth red. “In or out.” Harry trails one hand over Louis’ thigh to his crotch and Liam can’t help but stare at the way his fingers curl around the outline of Louis’ erection, at the way Louis arches into his touch.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” he finally manages. There’s not much else to say with Louis’ hand on his thigh and his naked, flushed chest rising and falling with his rapid breathing and with the way he’s looking at Liam. Liam reaches out and cups his cheek in his hand, fingers in his hair, tugging until Louis has to scoot toward him a little; he nudges their noses together, smiling, and Liam leans down kisses him again, tries not to think of the implications of what’s happening. He meets Harry’s gaze over Louis’ shoulder and then closes his eyes and pulls Louis closer, fitting his hands over the small of his back.

Louis tastes like red wine and bitter smoke and his evening stubble scratches Liam’s cheek when Liam turns to nip at his lower lip. He’s never before kissed another guy and it’s not as odd as he thought it’d be, even though Louis doesn’t yield, even though Louis opens his mouth and kisses back hungrily, gripping Liam’s neck and holding him there, holding him where, Liam assumes, he wants him to be.

When they break apart and Liam opens his eyes again, Harry is taking off his socks and trousers, then turns around and starts working on Louis’ chinos. Liam stares for a moment, caught, and then quickly takes his shirt off as well, ruffling his hair in the process. He feels the need to hug his chest, cross his arms, so he does for a moment, and even though Louis and Harry are down to their undies, Liam feels far more naked.

He clears his throat, hands shaking a little when he starts working his fly open. “So, like, when did you,” he starts, flicking his gaze up to meet Louis’ who’s staring at him, Harry pressed against his back, waiting.

Louis shrugs. “It’s just happened a few times. I’m not awfully experienced when it comes to gay sex, just so you know.” He grins and licks his lip, then parts them when Harry bites down on his shoulder again. Liam groans a little, involuntarily so, fingers grazing over his cock when he wiggles out of his jeans. He thinks about how he should be freaking out a little more maybe, about how the mention of gay sex just passes through him and about how he’s really, really hard, precome smearing between his boxerbriefs and his stomach in a wet mess.

“Oh god, look at you,” Louis says and then grinds back against Harry who’s got his hands on Louis’ hips, his mouth on Louis’s neck and his eyes on Liam. Liam hooks his thumbs into the waistband of Louis’ undies and pulls them down until the shiny pink head of Louis’ cock peeks out; Liam lets out a shuddery breath and shuffles closer, pulling Louis’ briefs down all the way until his dick springs free and the elastic band catches under his balls. Louis moans, head falling back, and he grabs Liam’s hand and pulls it up and wraps Liam’s fingers around his dick. The angle is weird and Liam sticks out his tongue in concentration when he thumbs the head, then darts his eyes up to watch Louis’ face.

“Do you like my cock?” Louis asks, but his voice is thick and his hips keep pushing off Harry’s lap and rubbing back down, and Liam’s face grows hot at the realization of what Louis is rubbing against, why Harry’s face is all flushed. He’s holding Louis’ hips and moving him along, nipping at his skin. It all accumulates in Liam’s head until he finds himself palming his own dick, his other hand sneaking down to cup Louis’ balls, rolling them gently.

“Oh fuck.” It takes Liam a moment to realize that it’s not Louis - Louis’ head is tilted back against Harry’s shoulder, breath coming in short bursts - but Harry, who’s watching him touch himself. Liam does it again and Louis shifts his hips down and Harry’s fingers dig so deep into his skin where he’s still holding Louis’ hips Liam knows he’ll leave bruises there. He strokes himself a little harder, moaning at that thought, and then Louis sits up a little and bats at Liam’s hand on his, Liam’s, cock, replacing it with his own. It’s different from Liam's own hand, his fingers more slender, but it doesn’t feel at all like any handjob he’s ever gotten from a girl because Louis twists at the upstroke and squeezes when he strokes down and there’s no insecurity there, no hesitation.

Liam moans again and presses closer, fitting their lips together. Louis lets him take control this time, eagerly opening up, and Liam moves his hand up to rub the head of his cock again, kissing him softly, gently.

“You two look so bloody good together,” Harry says brokenly. Oh, Liam thinks because he’s almost forgotten about Harry. He breaks away and meets Harry’s eyes, stomach twisting at the hunger in them. He tilts his head a little, cheek rubbing against Louis’ and nudges his nose against Harry’s, groaning when Louis’ fingers on his dick tighten a little, tugging.

“Hey,” Harry says with a smile and Liam hesitates for a moment, doubts himself and the skin and flesh under his fingers, but then captures Harry’s lips in a kiss anyway. Harry kisses back, but he’s softer, following Liam’s lead, anticipating.

“I think,” Louis says, rubbing his cheek against Liam’s and prompting him to break the kiss. “I think we should all strip fully. That is usually how sex is conducted.” He lets go of Liam’s dick and pushes at Liam’s underwear until he can wiggle out of it a little awkwardly.

“Are we really,” he begins and then clears his throat, getting distracted when Louis and Harry shift to sit, taking off each other’s undies, grinning at each other, playfully batting at each other’s chests and arms. Liam stares at them, at the wide span of Harry’s shoulders, so unexpectedly attractive, and at the muscles of his stomach shifting, and the thick head of his cock lying against his abdomen. Harry turns onto his side a little and fits his hand around the smooth length of Louis’ cock, squeezing, and Louis arches up, moaning, his thigh nudging against Liam’s and Liam loses his trail of thought when Louis’ tongue darts out and meets Harry’s in this absurdly pornographic open-mouthed kiss that Liam thought people only did in smut flicks.

“Fuck, you guys,” he breathes and shifts closer, not wanting to invade, but at the same time needing to feel some of that heat, craving the sensation of Louis’ skin; he slides his hand down Louis’ chest, grazing his nipples, down his hip to his thigh, squeezing at the muscle there - so different from the softness of a girl’s thigh - all solid and shifting, tensing under his fingers when he pulls, urging Louis to spread his thighs a little so Liam can touch him again, gently squeezing his sac, then moving up to grip the base of his dick. It surprises him how much he wants this, how much of a turn-on the feel of Louis’ cock in his hand is, how very much he wants to lean down and lick it, taste the heady scent of Louis’ sex against his tongue and inhale him.

“Don’t make me come,” Louis groans and pushes at Harry’s chest and Liam’s shoulder; Harry pulls away from him only to lean down and fit his mouth around his nipple and bite down; Louis yelps a little and then his hand finds Liam’s scalp, pulling him down by his hair. When they kiss Liam imagines he can taste Harry, too, and he opens his mouth and bites at Louis’ lips, makes him surrender, wanting to lick all of Harry out of his mouth, while Harry kisses down over Louis’ chest.

He grabs Harry’s hair and pulls him up, urging his head back, and then kisses him too, biting down on his chin, and Harry makes a sound low in the back of his throat, half a laugh, half a moan.

“Jesus,” Louis says. “Liam-”

“How’s this going to work?” Liam asks and lets go of Harry, heart racing a little. He needs some structure, he needs a fucking plan; logistics for two people are hard enough to figure out sometimes, and there’s three of them and they’re still high - at least he is, if the tingle he feels whenever Louis’ hand brushes over his skin is any indication - and Liam doesn’t really know what else to do with a cock that he hasn’t already done now.

“I want to suck your cock.” Louis fits his hand over Liam’s hip and shifts a little until they’re facing each other again; he pushes at Liam’s chest with his other hand and Liam falls back against the armrest of the couch, feeling oddly exposed and aroused at the same time with Louis crawling between his legs, looking up at him, lips parted. “I’ve only ever done this once before,” Louis continues, fitting his shoulders between Liam’s parted legs, and Liam scoots up the length of the couch until he’s sitting, cock painfully hard against his stomach.

“Nice view,” Harry says. He slides his hands up Louis’ ass, visibly squeezing, then up his back towards his neck, and guides Louis down a little, smiling at Liam.

“Hey,” Louis says and Harry nudges his hips against his ass and his cock slides up between his cheeks, and Liam’s hips twitch up because- because. He stops thinking when Louis’ lips find the head of his cock, sucking gently, teeth grazing only a little until he hisses and Louis gets the hint, opening up more.

Harry shifts, stretching, and pushes his fingers into the short hair at the back of Louis’ head and Liam can imagine what that feels like, _would_ imagine it, if Louis weren’t sucking his cock and taking him in a little deeper every time he bobs his head down. Liam thinks he’s doing a pretty great job considering this is only the second time he’s doing this. Harry lets out a short laugh, a bark almost, squeezes Louis’ ass with his other hand, and it’s only when Louis almost bites down on his cock that Liam realizes he’s said that out loud.

“Fuck,” he grunts and lets his head fall back, eyes closed, pushing up against Louis a little, unable to help it. “Sorry- sorry-” He hears Harry laugh and then Louis’ mouth takes him in deeper, until he’s sure he can feel the tight muscles at the back of Louis' throat tickle the head of his cock. He reaches down, blindly, and rubs his thumb over Louis’ cheek and opens his eyes again. Louis is staring up at him and Harry is just holding him there with his hand in Louis’ hair, pushing him down on Liam’s cock, half wedged between the back of the couch and Louis body and Liam’s legs, and he’s watching, rubbing himself idly.

Louis makes a tiny noise, eyes fluttering shut, lips red and swollen and wet around Liam’s cock, and Liam tries to pull away a little because he doesn’t _want_ to choke Louis, no matter how hot this is, no matter how hard it is to resist the urge to put his hand over Harry’s and just thrust up. The thought slices through him like a knife hot and sharp, bulldozing his self-control to the ground in a heatwave of arousal.

“I’m gonna come,” he groans and Harry allows Louis to pull back a little; he wraps his lips around the head of Liam’s dick again, sucking, and Liam drops his head against the couch, fingers finding Louis’ neck, squeezing as he comes, hips pulsing against his mouth for a moment.

“Will you swallow?” he hears Harry through a thick haze; Louis pulls away, but doesn’t answer. Liam squeezes his eyes shut, shivering a little in aftershocks when cold air hits his crotch. It takes him a moment or two or three to find himself again and when he sits up, Harry and Louis are kissing, sitting up, licking at each other’s lips, and if Liam hadn’t just come he might be getting hard again at the thought of Harry licking Liam’s taste out of Louis’ mouth like that, tiny flicks of his tongue.

Harry pulls away first, breathing hard, eyes wide, grinning at both Louis and Liam. He reaches down and gives Louis a good squeeze that visibly makes his body tighten up. “I’m going to fuck you,” he says quietly, smiling. “Do you have lube?”

Louis’ chest is rising and falling fast and Liam reaches out and smoothes his hand over his collarbone and his chest, wanting to feel his heartbeat there. Their eyes meet and Louis shakes his head, looking back at Harry after a moment. “No, sorry. I wasn’t really prepared for this kind of situation.” He grins, small, but Liam knows that grin, feels hesitation exude from Louis like a radio wave that only Liam can pick up.

“Do you want to? Really?” he asks Louis because Harry didn’t ask and maybe questions _are_ in order, maybe especially that question needs to be asked. But Louis nods and leans up to pull Harry down for a long, deep kiss, fisting his hand in his hair.

“I have some,” Liam hears himself say and before he’s even thinking about it he’s climbing to his feet, grabbing his briefs from the floor, stepping into them on the way to his bedroom. He keeps a small bottle of lube around mostly because they were given out along with free condoms on campus and it’s a good thing, too, because they should probably not forget about that either. He sighs, rummaging in his bedside drawer and grabs the lube and a condom. When he gets back to the living room, Louis is on his back, arm over his eyes, and Harry has his legs pushed up, face buried between them.

Liam stops in the door, then crosses the remaining distance in three large strides, dropping the condoms and the lube on the coffee table; Louis is all sweaty, flushed, and Liam can smell his arousal, the sounds Louis is making sending delicious shivers down his spine. He grabs Louis’ ankle and tugs a little until he can see where Harry’s mouth is pressed between the tan skin of Louis’ ass cheeks, until he can see Harry’s tongue pressing in and out of him.

“Oh fuck.” He kneels on the couch with one knee, next to Harry, and Harry looks up at him, face sweaty, but doesn’t stop.

“Liam,” Louis moans and Liam reaches down, wanting to grab Louis’ cock but Harry bats at his hand and pulls away a little, breathing hard. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and Louis makes a frustrated sound, nudging Harry’s shoulder with his foot. “What are you doing? Go on.”

“I want to fuck you,” Harry states, pressing the tip of his tongue against the corner of his mouth. He puts his fingers against Louis’ opening and nudges; Liam turns and grabs the lube from the table, dropping it on the couch next to Louis’ hip.

Louis laughs and shakes his head, looking at Liam first, then at Harry. “I feel like I’m in a cheap porno. ‘Tight virgin two-timed by hunky studs’.” Liam opens and closes his mouth, only half laughs because up until this point he hasn’t even thought about the possibility of himself going that far. Harry hasn’t either apparently. He tilts his head, a smile playing around his lips while he squeezes some lube out onto his hand, spreading it on his fingers. Liam watches, fascinated, breath caught in his throat.

Harry’s gaze finds Liam’s and there’s a challenge there, almost, and Liam doesn’t know how to respond to that. He doesn’t know what to say at all, so he spreads his hand out on Louis’ stomach, rubbing, while Harry pushes a finger into him. It slides in past the pink ring of muscle and Louis whines, fucking _whines_ , and tries to shift up, but Liam holds him there, mind racing, blood rushing from his head into his cock again until he’s half-hard. “Give him another,” he says before he can stop himself and Harry does, pushing in a second finger, wiggling them up a little, and Louis’ cock twitches.

“Oh god,” he says, chest heaving. “Oh god do that again fuck do that again-”

“Prostate,” Harry says just as Liam is about to ask and pushes his fingers deeper, keeping the angle; Louis clenches around him, muscles pulling at Harry’s fingers, and for a moment Liam wants to join him in there, feel Louis’ tight heat, too, until Harry continues, “Let’s see.” He twists his fingers up again and then again, finding a rhythm.

“What?” Liam replies dumbly and pulls his hand away from Louis’ stomach, allowing Louis to push up against Harry’s fingers, almost fucking himself; Louis is digging his fingers into the upholstery now, breathing harshly, neck arched and throat exposed.

“Just,” Harry says and doesn’t continue, but adds another finger, stretching Louis wide open for a moment before snapping back into the rhythm from before, finding the same angle again. Louis moans again, loudly, almost a sob, and Harry speeds up a little, gaze fixed on Louis’ throat, and Liam thinks, oh, _oh_. Louis’ pelvis comes off the couch and his dick twitches once and then again and he freezes, pulsing semen over his chest and stomach in two thick spurts.

“Harry,” Louis moans and reaches between his legs and Harry pulls his fingers out, lips curling into a little, pleased smirk. Louis shifts a bit, legs falling open, breathing slowing as he comes down.

“That,” Liam starts, staring down at Louis’ flushed, spread out and pliant body. He hesitates for a moment, looking up to catch Louis’ eyes, and then when he does, reaches down and rubs over his opening with the pad of his thumb, feeling him hot and a little loose and wet with lube. “I didn’t know that was possible.” He’s fully hard now, cock caught uncomfortablys in his undies, and he adjusts himself with his free hand, squeezing lightly.

Harry shrugs and uses Liam’s back as support when he leans over him, snatching the condom from the table. He rips it open and rolls it on, giving himself two strokes, hips shifting, bumping into Liam’s thigh. “He’s basically very-” Harry stops and smiles. “Sensitive. Very sensitive.”

“I’m a little dizzy,” Louis says and lets his head drop back against the armrest of the couch.

“Oh,” Liam says. He switches fingers and then pushes his middle finger inside Louis, carefully wiggling until Louis moans again. He adds another, exchanging a look with Harry, and then starts moving. It’s not much different from doing this for a girl, except Louis is tighter, hotter, and when Liam twists his fingers up a little, pushes deeper, Louis’ cock starts filling up again, swelling against his stomach.

“Hey,” Harry says and curls his fingers around Liam’s wrist, pulling him away. “Hey, let me.” He sits up and grabs Louis’ hips to pull him into his lap and Liam has to make room if he doesn’t want to end up on the floor. He palms his cock and gets up. Harry adjusts his grip and looks up and Louis nods, and then Harry shifts up a little, grabbing his cock and guiding himself inside. Louis bites his lip and reaches out when the head slips in, finding Liam’s hand on the backrest of the couch, tangling their fingers and holding on.

“Fuck,” he groans, “fuck this is way- so much bigger than your fingers-”

Liam wants to laugh at that but he can’t find the breath to do so; Harry grunts low in the back of his throat and buries himself inside Louis all the way. Liam lets go of Louis’ hand and sits back on the table, knees weak.

“Fuck me,” Louis urges, grips Harry’s biceps until Harry shifts on top of him, hips seated between Louis’ spread thighs. Liam slips his hand inside his undies and starts stroking his erection, unable to stop himself, watching as Harry drops his head on Louis’ shoulder for a moment, back tensing and untensing. Liam groans, parting his legs a little and reaches his second hand inside his underwear, too, cupping his balls, rubbing his thumb over the vein on the underside of his cock. Harry pulls back, pushing himself up on his hands again, and snaps his hips, Louis’ body jerking with the force.

“Oh god,” Harry grunts and Liam can only barely hear it; Louis answers with a guttural sound, riding back up against him until they’re moving in unison, with Louis’ sweaty hair sticking to his forehead, cock bobbing every time Harry fucks into him, his legs wrapped around Harry’s waist.

“I won’t last,” Harry moans, staring down at Louis, and Liam almost comes at that, hips coming off the table as he speeds up his hand on his own cock.

Louis arches up and finds Harry’s mouth, kissing him, tiny whimpers escaping between their mouths until Harry pulls away and sits up, chest moist with sweat, and pushes Louis’ thighs up, almost bending him in half. His thrusts grow more frantic, matching the rapid rhythm of his breathing - of _all_ their breathing - and when he bends back a little, muscles in his abdomen working, clenching and unclenching visibly, Louis’ body jerks and his mouth opens silently.

“Yeah,” Harry moans, “yeah, yes-” He keeps the angle and the speed and Liam can feel the tension between them seeping over into him, his own orgasm so close he can almost feel it on the tip of his tongue. Louis whines, body freezing while Harry keeps going, driving into him hard, and comes over his stomach again, shivering. Liam watches Louis' orgasm course through his body and whites out, pulsing hotly against his hand and stomach, falling back against the table, chest rising and falling. He hears Harry come, hears the almost pained sound of it, but he can’t move to watch even though he wants to, muscles spent and tired.

By the time he’s able to sit up again, wiping his hand on his underwear, Harry has pulled out, the condom is on the floor, leaking, and Harry and Louis are kissing, barely two people anymore, wound together so tightly. They pull apart and then share breath again, until Louis collapses against the pillows, laughing a little. Liam stays still, scraping his nails down his thighs, the sensation almost too much.

“Come here,” Louis says after a moment and Liam follows the request without thinking, crossing the mere foot between the table and the couch on his knees. Louis cups his face in his hand and draws him down, kissing him gently. And this- this is almost like being able to breathe again. He kisses back gingerly, nipping at Louis’ lower lip, sighing into his mouth. When they’re done, Harry has sprawled out on the opposite end of the couch, naked and skin still stained red from his orgasm.

“I feel rather dirty,” Louis says smiling. He rubs Liam’s arm, massaging the muscles. “In more ways than one.”

“You’re also going to be sore tomorrow,” Harry adds without moving. Liam almost wants to comment on that, almost wants to say something about it, but then opts not to.

“We should shower,” he finally suggests, pushing up to his legs. He’s mostly sober now, he notices. Sober and still not weirded out by a nude Louis on the couch.

“Yes,” Louis agrees, and has Liam help him. Harry follows them a moment later and they take a shower together, taking turns under the stream. It's crowded and Liam almost has to step out of the tub with one foot to find enough space, but somehow they fit, squeezed together. Afterwards, Liam lingers while Harry and Louis leave the bathroom, scrubbing his face and inspecting his skin, his red eyes, chest tight for no reason at all.

When he’s done, dressed in boxershorts, there’s a light on in the kitchen and Louis and Harry, in pajama bottoms, are sitting at the table drinking tea. Louis looks up when Liam enters, face splitting into a smile that shoots lightning down Liam’s guts.

“Hey,” he says and closes the door behind himself, awkwardly walking around the table.

“I made you a cup,” Louis continues and reaches out for him; Liam follows instinctively, grabbing the cup from the table while Louis fits his arm around his waist and holds him close. His body is still warm from the shower and he smells like soap now, almost like he usually smells, except this time Liam can sense something else underneath, an earthy scent that he’d missed until now. Harry regards them for a moment, head tilted, and then continues where he must’ve left off with his story.

He meets Liam’s eyes as he speaks, slowly fitting his lips around the words, and Louis’ body vibrates with laughter and amusement next to Liam’s. Liam pulls him closer, finds that his arm is just the perfect length to be wound around his waist, just the perfect length to allow for his hand to sprawl over his stomach and rub; so he does, drawing idle circles with his fingers against Louis’ skin, and steadily holds Harry’s gaze.

***


End file.
